The Chronicles: Three Sisters 13

"My daughters and I know this land. Two leagues from here, there's a wonderful spot, where a steep hill climbs to a rocky ledge, and then turns sharply. There's a stream. The Nebel. After that, it's a nice, soft trail, covered in pine needles. We'll be able to use worriks again."

"It's also a natural choke-point - a place where a handful of fighters can hold up ten times their number. We need to be past that spot by the end of the day."

- "I understand that." he said. "But I can hold here, while you go ahead."

I shook my head. "Vin, nobody wants to move today. Everyone's tired, and sore all over. You have to get them moving. You have to drive them. They'll listen, because they know you, and they love you."

- "Why am I here?" asked Giedra.

- "Because love and respect will only carry them so far." I said.

"Are you really the next Payl, Giedra? If you are, then I need you to prove it today."

- "What does that mean?"

- "It means that when people want to quit, and just lie down, you have to drive them harder. When they're ready to give up, you have to kick them up the hill. You have to shame every man who can't keep up, and inspire every woman. They'll all need to find a reserve of energy, of willpower - that most of them don't know they have."

- "And I'll be there to help." said Tanguiste. "You thunder and rage. I'll plead and cajole. Between the three of us, we'll find a way to get everyone past that ledge."

I put my arm around my daughter, and kissed her cheek. She knew exactly what I was asking.

Vingoldas wasn't so sure.

- "This isn't some sort of heroic, suicidal stand, on your part, is it?"

- "Do I look that stupid? Two of my daughters will be here with me. We'll be rejoining the rest of you just after dark - and you'd damned well better be past that ledge."

- "Who else are you keeping?" asked Giedra.

- "A couple of archers." I said.

I had time for a word with Sulcen, and an exchange of meaningful looks with Guen Nadesti. After that, I helped get people to their feet, and persuaded the older children to take charge of the poles for the worriks.

Vingoldas performed a small miracle, getting our folk to their feet, and slowly moving up the hill. I managed to get another moment with Giedra.

- "There's more to being a warrior chieftain than killing enemies." I said.

- "I understood you the first time, old man." she said. "Giedra and the long march. All I need is a guslar to sing the tale."

I had to laugh. "I think that Payl would have liked you."

- "Of course she would." said the big blonde. "The real question is, would I have liked her?"

It took longer than I would have preferred, but we got most of our people moving.

I looked at the small party left by the cleft. Yevna, of course. Nameless, and Libot. The three best archers we had. Libot was pleased to be so trusted. He had enough sense to realize that he was my third choice, and enough humility to agree with my decision.

And Guenna was there, too. My youngest.

We watched as more Izumyrian horsemen arrived. And then more.

Until there were over a hundred.

A horn sounded, and the mass of horses and men began to assume the shape of a column, four wide. They came up the slope, a powerful stream of mounted warriors.

- "So many." said Libot.

- "How many can come at us at once?" asked Guenna.

- "Eh?"

- "Look at the path. How many can ride abreast? How many riders can come at us at any one time?"

There was a good reason for choosing this spot. In quite a few places, the trail up the shoulder of Myeva was wide, or level with the flat ground to either side. But clumps of pine trees, here and there, would restrict our attackers to two or three abreast, at most.

What the Izumyrians couldn't see, of course, was that some fifty yards before the gap in the rocks, the ground to either side of the path fell away sharply. Then the trail narrowed and climbed at the same time.

If a rider left the trail, he would find it impossible to get back onto it. The rocks, and a thick tangle of stunted pine, also prevented anyone from getting past us by going around our position. The cleft in the rocks was a beautiful, natural chokepoint, which our enemies were about to experience firsthand.

As they drew nearer, we could see that these horse troopers were equipped the same as the scouts we had encountered yesterday. These Izumyrian riders wore rounded helmets, with thick cheek-pieces. Some helmets featured horsehair crests, or horse tails.

- "Those will be officers." I said. "Shoot them first, if you can."

Each man had the mail shoulder guards. The officers - the ones with fancy helmets - wore mail shirts; the rest had studded leather jerkins. All of them carried small round shields, and spears. I noticed, too, that they all wore pieces of armour on their upper and lower legs. And those heavy boots - eminently practical for protecting their legs and feet.

An officer of some kind led the way. He couldn't see, as we did, the difficulty which the four men behind him ran into. The path just wasn't wide enough for all of them. One surged ahead of his fellows, to ride directly behind the leader.

But the next two horses jostled for position. One of the beasts was knocked right off the trail. His rider continued on, parallel to his friends, only to find that their path was rising, while the ground he was on fell away. He had no way to rejoin them.

The same thing happened to the next group of four - only worse. One of the horses slipped, tried to remain on the path, and was knocked sideways. The beast lost its footing, and fell heavily, throwing its rider.

The lead horsemen had no idea what was happening behind them. They came on, one behind the other, until they were a scant twenty yards from our position.

That's when our three archers fired. Guenna and I carried extra quivers, but we left the shooting to three masters of the art.

Yevna and Libot shot the officer's horse. Nameless aimed at the rider's face. I don't know if he ducked his head at the last instant, but her arrow rang off his helmet - we all heard it clearly.

The horse was not so fortunate. It went down, suddenly, pitching the officer over its head. He landed badly, on his head and shoulder.

Our archers fired again, at the second horseman, all three targeting the beast. That horse went down as well. Another rider was thrown from the saddle.

The third and fourth horses had nowhere to go. Pulling up, or reining in suddenly did no good at all. With more horsemen coming on behind them, they had no choice but to veer off the trail. That was not so easy.

There was a three foot drop, to the right. On the left, the horse had to swerve and immediately climb. The animal made the adjustment; the horseman hung on, and kept his seat - until Yevna's arrow hit him in the armpit.

The Izumyrians lost five horses and four men in their first approach. They were especially incensed when I calmly walked forward, and finished off the stunned officer with my sword. I turned my back on them, and walked back.

They could see that there were only four or five of us. An officer exerted his authority, and squads of four began to leave the path, to left and right. A horn sounded, very close by.

The Izumyrians charged us, on a front twenty men wide. It was quite impressive, for a few moments.

The eight riders on our right found the ground rising. But ahead of them was a tangled mess of rocks, thorn bushes, and twisted, stunted trees. It was utterly impassable - even on foot.

Eight more Izumyrians, to our left, discovered that the slope fell away, and led them into a wall of rocks and boulders. They couldn't get to us at all.

The poor bastards following the trail ran into the bodies of the first wave's fallen horses. This was no simple obstacle, that they could simply jump over.

Yevna, Nameless and Libot made matters worse for them, downing two more horses, and picking off another pair of riders, one of them a junior officer.

A more senior leader asserted himself. Perhaps it was this Count Seaglitz, whose name Prosquetel had recognized. A pair of horns sounded, and the Izumyrians pulled back. They left behind seven dead or seriously injured horses, and six dead men.

It was hardly fair. We had three skilled archers, and the Izumyrians had had to learn, the hard way, that they could only approach us one at a time.

Whoever took charge of their efforts, from that point, was no fool. Sixty of the horsemen dismounted, and advanced on foot. They came on a broad front: at least twenty were upslope, and another score were downhill of the path.

Two, or even three men could come along the path, with their shields overlapping, as long as they stayed close together, and kept a straight line. These were trained soldiers: they could do that.

Archers as talented as ours could have made them pay. But we would have had to man the gap, and fight toe to toe. I had no intention of doing that.

We pulled out. It was a simple matter of trotting up the trail, jumping over rocks and tree roots, for some two hundred yards, until we reached a twist in the path.

The path had to turn, because of a sizeable boulder, and because the pine trees suddenly became more numerous, more gnarled and twisted - which meant that they created an impassable barrier on both sides of the path.

Our enemies were angry, and in a vengeful mood. The men advancing on foot were only too happy to raise a shout when they reached the cleft. That was the signal for the horse troopers, held in reserve, to advance at the double.

You see, the men on foot, with their helmets and shields, their leg greaves and heavy boots, couldn't keep up with us as we retreated. They couldn't run.

A heavy, lumbering jog was the best they could manage. My daughters and our friends wore no armour whatsoever. We could skip up the trail, climbing over the rocks, while our pursuers lumbered after us.

It was understandable that they tried to chase us down, on horseback.

Understandable, but unfortunate - for them.

The trail, after the cleft, widened for a hundred yards. Then it began to turn, avoiding a stand of pine trees. After that, it got worse.

Rocks in the very center of the path. Trees everywhere. The path wound one way, and then reversed direction. It was difficult to follow, on foot. It was impossible, on horseback.

When the first rider approached our second choke-point, we let him be. We waited until more horses, and more men, had crowded in after him. Then our archers opened fire.

The poor bastards knew that they had fallen into a trap. But they had nowhere to go. The riders behind them were pressing forward, blocking their retreat. And it's no mean feat to turn your horse around, on a narrow, rocky path, while enemies fire arrows at you.

I know this, because I watched them try.

I'm not sure what I would have done, in their place. They wouldn't abandon their horses - which might have been the most sensible thing to do. Two more horses went down, and three more men.

We ran, after that. I knew the land, as did Yevna and Guenna. We had almost half a league to cover before we could reach another natural barrier.

Our foes, though, were now understandably shy about sending mounted riders in pursuit. They must have re-grouped, and then sent out men on foot, to either side of the path. That approach was safer, and would spare them any more casualties. But we would be long gone.

They were angry, of course. The casualties we had inflicted would make them eager for revenge. But they were professional soldiers, accustomed to obeying their officers - and someone back there had enough sense not to repeat the same mistakes.

Guenna was with me, watching our back trail. We saw a pair of riders emerge from cover, several hundred yards behind us. They didn't immediately charge at us. Instead, they simply kept us in sight, until more of their fellows began to appear.

- "That's troubling." said Guenna. "They're not as stupid as I hoped they'd be."

***

Vingoldas, Giedra and Tanguiste had done their job. We could afford to let our folk rest for a day, because the next choke point was a natural wonder. We called it the Slip.

There had been a landslide here, years ago - before my daughters and I had fled from the lake. The only way up, along the path, was unpleasantly steep. It was impossible to ride: horses would have to be led - and carefully led, at that.

Poor Hedyn had had to carry his wife up this ridiculous path. Vingoldas had carried Mother Nadesti. And somehow, the Lowlanders had gotten their Duchess to the top of the Slip.

The Izumyrians would realize, right away, that five determined warriors could hold off a thousand, here. Anyone trying to climb parallel to the path risked setting off a new landslide. Our pursuers would try it, of course, and learn the hard way that it was impossible.

There was a path that led off to the north, away from the mountains. The Izumyrians would find it, eventually - possibly as early as the next day. They would follow it, only to discover that it led away from us, but not around our position.

It would take them another day, or possibly two, to learn that they could leave this new path, and come through the trees. The undergrowth was negligible, and the trees more widely spaced. After a short climb, the Izumyrians would find a new trail, which led west and south, and then connected with the path behind the Slip.

By that time, our main party could move forward, by easy stages, using worriks. Two, or probably three days would see them at a little clearing, near a running stream, where my girls and I had found the body of a man, all those years ago.

Moruith's elder son. Inisian's brother. He had been murdered, his body left where they killed him.

Another few leagues further on, we would come to the Neck.

Of all the beautiful, nasty, defensive positions or choke points north of the Three Sisters, the Neck was my favourite. It was simply ridiculous.

The trail led through a forest of pine trees, until one could hear the stream, long before you could see it. Over the centuries, water running from the brow of Myeva had carved a course down the slope, gouging out a path for itself, carrying away loose dirt, and wearing down the bedrock of the mountain itself.

In early summer, with the melting snow and the run-off, the stream was a raging torrent. In late summer, it was still deep and fast.

At the Neck, the traveller would find a small gorge, perhaps ten feet wide - but also eight to ten feet deep. Both sides of the stream were solid rock. It was too wide to leap over, and no one in their right mind would try to climb down, wade across the stream, and then climb up the opposite side.

There were two fallen trees spanning the gap. One was old, and the bark had been worn off in several places. The second was narrower, but with better traction for the feet, and occasional branches which made excellent handholds.

But crossing the tree-bridges while arrows were being shot at you?

Unthinkable.

Especially if there were determined warriors waiting for you on the opposite side.

Yevna knew all of these places. Inisian had shown them to her. But it was Guenna and I who took that knowledge, and turned it into a plan.

The only other place to cross the stream was two leagues downhill. And from that point, we could resume our little game of sting and retreat, of hit and run.

Everything went as Guenna had foreseen - exactly as she had predicted, when she explained her plan to us.

There was only one problem, one little event which my daughter had not anticipated.

The day after we passed the Neck, Hedyn's wife went into labour.

*****

[1] A league is very hard to define. In the Roman Empire, it was approximately 1.4 miles. In England, three miles. In the Uplands of Hvad, a league was approximately 3km (or 1.9 miles).

[2] A travois (from the French word 'travail'). Two or three poles lashed together, in the shape of an isosceles triangle. They could be pulled by hand, or fitted with a harness, and pulled by dogs, or horses. While they may seem primitive compared to wheeled vehicles, the travois was better suited to soft soil, forest floors, or snow.